Like You Knew Me and All the Things I Couldn't Say
by singyourmelody
Summary: Austin and Ally, post "Couples and Careers." After that, I had to write something and this is what came out. "No, no, no," she says, breaking away and stepping back towards the opposite side of the piano. "We don't do that anymore, remember?" "I know, I know," he says, running his hand through his hair. "If you know, then why did you do it?" she asks. Oneshot.


"Like You Knew Me and All the Things I Couldn't Say"

by: singyourmelody

Disclaimer: Don't own Austin & Ally characters. Story title is from "Together" by The xx, which is quiet and moody and haunting and totally fits where I'm at right now.

Oh, show. What are you doing to me? They can't even be together for one episode? All that build up and they back off right away? I just can't even . . .

Anyway, this is a response to that, written probably way too quickly after watching "Couples and Careers." I apologize in advance.

* * *

"_Okay, but don't let go just yet."_

"_I wasn't going to."_

* * *

"That line doesn't make sense," she says, erasing the words in her book.

"It doesn't need to. It's about feeling the moment."

"Well then, the moment doesn't make sense."

He stands up. "I like it. We should keep it."

"No, it will confuse people. And it's not even a good line anyway. It's slant rhyme. It's like rhyme's third cousin that nobody likes to talk about at family reunions . . ." she counters, standing opposite him.

He tilts his head. "Now who's not making sense?"

"Ugh. The line goes."

"Stays."

"Goes."

"Stays."

"I am the one who writes the lyrics most of the time. I am the writer. My name is on this song. It goes," she says, stepping closer to him.

"I have to sing it! My name is just as attached to this as yours is. And I sometimes come up with lyrics," he protests.

"Fine, that wasn't fair. You do write lyrics. I only wish that right now you could come up with some that are actually good," she says, narrowing her eyes.

He scoffs. "That line _is _good and It. Is. Staying." His tone is firm and confident.

She steps one step closer to him, the only distance that's left really, and cranes her neck to look into his eyes. "I have been doing this a lot longer than you, and I can tell when a line isn't working. This isn't working and it needs to be cut." She stands on her tiptoes and lowers her voice. "Cut cut cut."

His eyes flash down to her mouth and in the split second she realizes what is happening, his hands are on her face and his lips are covering hers and she pushes into him, almost involuntarily responding to his touch. Her arms wrap around his neck as his move to her waist, pulling her closer and . . .

"No, no, no," she says, breaking away and stepping back towards the opposite side of the piano. "We don't do that anymore, remember?"

"I know, I know," he says, running his hand through his hair.

"If you know, then why did you do it?" she almost shouts out. She was supposed to be forgetting what it felt like to kiss him, but how is she supposed to do that when he keeps kissing her?

"I, uh, forgot?" he suggests and smiles hopefully.

"No, you didn't. You couldn't. I am reminded every second that we are together that we are _not_ actually together. We can't forget that. If we do, then this happens," she says and she sits back down on the piano bench.

"How are you reminded?" he asks, sitting next to her.

"I don't know," she says, looking away. "I can't seem to forget. When you're next to me . . . it just seems, I don't know."

They sit in silence for a moment.

"See? This is what I mean," she says finally. "We are great together, but as soon as we talk about it or label it or whatever, it all shuts down. I never have any problems talking to you unless I am trying to describe my thoughts and feelings about you and about us."

"I know, I am right there with you. It's like my brain has an 'Ally' switch that equates to 'off,'" he says.

"So I guess we were right?"

He nods. "Friends."

"And partners," she says.

They stare at the silent white and black piano keys.

"So stop kissing me then," she adds, nudging his shoulder with her own.

"I'm trying!" he says, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

* * *

"So then she asked me out."

"Melody Wilcox asked you out?" Dez asks in disbelief.

"Yeah. Kind of crazy, right?" he says, as they walk towards their lockers.

"If by crazy you mean amazing and miraculous and a sign sent down from the heavens, then sure, crazy."

"Stop being so dramatic. I didn't even know she was interested in me," he says.

"So when are you taking her out? And where? It better be somewhere romantic. As Miami's resident Love Whisperer, I can offer some suggestions," Dez says before lowering his voice. "I may even have a groupon available, but it will cost you."

"Dude, nobody calls you that. And I think I'm going to turn her down."

Dez stops walking then and he crashes into his best friend's back.

"Dez! Watch-"

"You are turning her down?" Dez asks, spinning around to face him.

"Um, yeah?"

"WHY?"

"I don't know. No reason. Just don't wanna go," he stutters.

Dez walks over to the nearest rows of lockers and starts banging his head against them. "This has Ally Dawson written all over it," he laments.

"What? This isn't because of Ally. We aren't even together. Although. . ."

"Although?" Dez stops banging his head and turns to look at Austin.

"I might have kissed her in the practice room yesterday?" he says really fast, as if that somehow makes it less important or shocking or something.

"What? Austin. The lines, man," Dez says, holding up his hands, fingers straight and pointing upward, "you are making them blurry." He moves his hands in circular motions so quickly that all Austin can see are fingers flying through the air.

He grabs Dez's hands to stop them and drops them to his sides. "I don't need an illustration. I already know things are blurry and weird and . . ." he sighs, "how do I stop wanting her, wanting that? That's my problem. It's like now that it's out there, I will forever _know_ that it's out there. I'm not sure I can go back." They continue walking.

Dez nods. "Maybe you need to be ready for the blurry and weird then. 'Cause it seems like you're putting up a permanent residence there."

"What if she's not ready to jump back into it? I mean, it is a little uncomfortable. We have to like learn each other in this whole new way," he says.

"If she's not ready, then you wait. Seems like you're kind of doing that already," Dez comments, as he unlocks his locker and retrieves a book.

"I guess I am kind of waiting for her. Or waiting for us to be ready. Waiting for me to be ready. But how do I know when that is?" he asks.

Dez shrugs. "I think the fact that you can recognize that means you are further along than you realize."

He sighs. "So, we're not together. Not apart. This is the kind of crap they write rom-coms about," he mutters to himself.

"Oh, they already have. _The Ties that Bind. _Opens next week. I have tickets for the midnight showing. You in?"

He laughs. "Sure. I'm in."

* * *

_The Ties that Bind_ totally sucks.

Of course, that doesn't stop him from getting a little teary-eyed when Marlene and Ricardo are finally able to make it work.

"What?" he whispers to Dez, who is staring at him with amusement. "I have something in my eye."

"Yeah, te-"

"Don't say it," he interrupts.

He decides to take the long way home.

* * *

Saturday morning finds her sipping a cup of tea in her pajamas with a new melody stuck in her head.

She moves the keyboard over to her bed and crawls back under the covers, because after the past few weeks she's had, she deserves a day in bed.

She plays for a few hours, tweaking the song, trying out various chord progressions and run sequences. She loves the songs that are born in her dreams. They somehow have a different quality to them, somehow come from a place deep within that she didn't even know existed.

Her phone buzzes right as she is heading into the bridge, so she decides to take a break and check it.

From: Austin  
To: Ally  
June 15, 2013, 11:20 AM

_Hey, are you home?_

She texts back.

From: Ally  
To: Austin  
June 15, 2013, 11:21 AM

_Yeah, why?_

He doesn't respond, but the next thing she knows, he is tapping at her window.

"Austin!" she says, hopping out of bed and opening the window for him to enter.

"What are you doing?" she asks, as he stumbles into her room.

He stands up and brushes a few leaves off of his clothes.

"How did you get in here?"

"Climbed the tree?" he says, smiling.

She crosses her arms, suddenly very aware that she is wearing a tight tank top, short shorts and an open flannel shirt.

"You could have used the front door, you know," she says.

He ignores her and instead wanders around her room, taking in her pictures and posters and shelves and shelves of books. "I haven't been in here very often," he says.

"Looks the same as the last time you were here."

He shakes his head. "No, this wasn't here." He points to a picture of the two of them and Trish and Dez at Sonic Boom.

"Or this." He picks up a ticket stub from the Florence and the Machine concert they attended.

She walks over to where he is standing and looks more closely at the ticket. "That was such a good show. She is an amazing performer."

"Yeah, she's pretty incredible. A little weird."

"I think that weird is a part of her genius," she says, smiling.

"She does have a crazy good voice," he concedes. He points to the piano. "What are you working on?"

"Something I woke up to," she says, before she sits on her bed and plays him the first few lines.

He nods to the beat. "I like it. It's different."

"Yeah, no words yet. Although maybe that's a good thing, since we all remember how well that turned out the last time," she says, her eyes growing wide as she finishes. "Um, so what's up? Why are you here?" she asks, biting her lip.

"Wanted to talk. Is that okay?" he asks, moving to sit next to her on her bed.

"Austin, of course. You know you can talk to me about anything," she says as she moves her keyboard to make room for him.

"Okay, well this might be kind of, um, awkward or weird, but I just wanted to tell you something," he begins.

She refuses to look away, even though she really wants to. She has a suspicion of what is coming next and she's not sure if-

"I want to be with you, Ally," he says, interrupting her thoughts. "Really with you. Even if it's weird and awkward at first and even if it's hard. I want that because I know all of the hard stuff will be worth it," he says.

She doesn't respond.

"But. . ." he says and she tilts her head in confusion. "But," he starts again, "I want this to be real and for both of us to be in it one hundred percent. And if we can't do that right now, then we don't do it right now. But I'm telling you, that someday, hopefully sooner rather than later, but someday, it will be 'right now.' And I'm waiting for you, for that time."

She looks like she might cry and he's not really sure what to do. She finally breaks eye contact and stares at the door to her room.

He briefly wonders if she's contemplating running away.

She stands up and he's now sure of it.

But she doesn't go through the door. Instead she starts walking back and forth, back and forth.

"Okay, here's what I know," she begins. "I want that too," she says as she stops walking. "Everything you just said, that's what I want. But," she states as she resumes pacing. "I don't know how to get it. I don't know how to get there with you."

"Well, we could start by not labeling it," he suggests.

"_Not_ labeling it?" she says, moving to sit next to him.

"Right. The titles throw us off. No titles."

She nods. "Okay. . . and no fancy dates. No cool forks or hot weather or flying chairs."

He nods. "Agreed."

"And none of that lovey-dovey stuff in front of people. I know Trish and Dez would never let us live it down," she says and he nods.

"No anniversaries of tiny, not important things- I mean, who really cares about celebrating the first time you shared an ice cream cone?" he suggests.

"Good one. And no cheesy pet names. I think we established they don't work for us, Cute Nick Name," she says, poking his side.

He laughs. "Right, Goose Pickle."

"And no being oversensitive to each other's feelings," she says and they both grow silent.

He nods. "Okay, then. I'm going to tell you when I hate a song."

"And I already tell you when I hate your lyrics."

"Your third chord progression sounds a little off, by the way," he says, gesturing to her keyboard.

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really. Try this," he says, playing by ear the song she wrote, but changing one of the key chords.

"Huh. That is better."

"Don't sound so surprised," he says and she places one of her hands over his on the keys.

"I'm not," she says, seriously.

He moves to kiss her, but she says, "Wait," and he stops.

"Are we really doing this? Are we ready?" she asks.

"You're my person. It's happening," he says with a shrug and a nervous half-smile. And it's a commitment and it's scary, but she looks down to his hand that she's holding and realizes that he's right. He's her person. This is happening. This is what she wants. She is holding what she wants.

"Okay, then," she responds.

* * *

_Thanks for reading and reviewing. Love to all._


End file.
